


Beer Good

by Lisztful



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-11
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisztful/pseuds/Lisztful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean decides to find out what happens when you get an angel drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beer Good

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Second Official Waff-a-thon](http://tiptoe39.livejournal.com/1084429.html?view=4257293#t4257293) hosted by Tiptoe39, betaed by Erda, who is super, super awesome! Title is a rough approximation of a Buffy quote from episode, 4x05, _Beer Bad_. Prompt was dean/cas, happy drunks.

[ ](http://s378.photobucket.com/albums/oo226/thatsthelight/?action=view&current=tonightwewillcuddle.png)

"Beer is good," Castiel says earnestly, looking down at his empty glass. "Angels don't have beer."

They're at a dive bar in the middle of Nowhere, West Virginia, having a drink after wrapping up a fairly straightforward hunt, and Dean has taken it upon himself to see exactly what happens when you get an angel drunk.

"Oh my god, you're gonna kill him," Sam says. "He has no tolerance." Dean glares at him, because this is not part of the plan. Sam shrugs and tries to look reproachful, but it's been such a long time since they've fought about something so dumb, he can barely remember how to do it. The effect is somewhere between perplexed and queasy.

Castiel cuts into the staring contest like he's completely unaware of it, which is actually probably the case. "Incorrect," he says, in his usual faintly uncomprehending way. "This vessel has consumed alcohol on many occasions."

"Dude," Sam says, looking like he's interested against his will. "Does that mean Jimmy can get drunk but you can't?"

"No," Castiel says musingly. "I can. Beer is good."

"You think that's nice?" Dean says happily, "Wait 'til you meet Jack Daniels." This is an awesome idea. Sam never waxes poetic about beer, only search engine capabilities and card catalogs and stuff. Castiel is awesome.

"Does Jack Daniels like beer too?" Castiel asks.

"Seriously?" Sam says. "I am so not taking care of your drunk asses."

Yeah, Cas is awesome. Dean grins winningly and punches Sam in the arm. Sam tries really hard to look pissed off but ends up snickering into his grilled cheese sandwich.

So, Dean basically hasn't seen alcohol as anything other than self-medication in like, years. But Castiel makes this unbelievably adorable face when he takes a shot, with his nose wrinkled up and his eyes all wide and shocked. Dean doesn't exactly have the made-for-tv movie experience of having his first drink behind the high school bleachers or something, but watching Cas like this, he can almost imagine it.

It's strange to think about it this way, something he found so early and Cas is experiencing so late. Together they almost make a normal person. Okay, maybe that's pushing it, but it's still a nice thought, the way Cas makes him feel young again, but also old, because for once he's taking care of Cas and it's something he can totally do.

Cas spills a shot, and the whiskey splashes over his fingertips and drips down toward his wrist. Dean really, really wants to lick it, so okay, maybe getting shitfaced around someone who looks all pretty even before Dean gets tipsy is sort of a bad idea, but if so, Dean really doesn't want to hear about it. Too late now, might as well enjoy it.

After his fifth shot, things are starting to get fuzzy. Sam's got the car keys safely stowed away, and Castiel is wearing a big, crazy grin and babbling on about how beer is so good and Jack is too. "You are good too," he tells Dean. "You give me beer and Jack and you call me on your cell phone. I like when you call me."

This time Sam doesn't even try to hide his snicker, but Dean doesn't care. "That's real nice," he drawls, and he's way more pleased than he wants to admit.

"Oh god," Sam says. "If you guys are gonna be all cute I need curly fries." He leans down the bar and gestures for the bartender.

"I like curly fries," Castiel says hopefully.

"Goddamnit," Sam says. "Make it a double order."

"Can there be more beer?" Castiel asks, and Dean waves an arm expansively and says, "Get this man a beer!"

Castiel is a really fast learner, so it doesn't take him long to figure out that the extra spirally curly fries are way better than the moderately wavy ones, and then he's stealing them all out from under Sam's nose. "Dean, this is for you," he says magnanimously, and hands him half of a perfectly curled fry. "It's because you're awesome," Castiel adds sweetly, and Dean absolutely doesn't blush.

That's pretty much the point where Sam cuts them off and shoves them into the Impala. Dean collapses onto the backseat because, whoa, that was more beer than he'd realized, and Castiel doesn't even pretend to want to sit up front because he's awesomely unsubtle. They end up sprawled across the seats, thighs pressed close. Sam is trying really hard to pretend he's annoyed at them, but he keeps looking at them in the rearview mirror and failing to wipe the sappy grin off his face.

"There isn't beer in the car," Castiel says mournfully, and he's totally got his arm around Dean's shoulders as he strokes the back of Dean's neck. He is completely without game, but Dean will never, ever call him on it because he secretly finds it really endearing. However, this is not a statement of happy or awesomeness, which may lead to a neck-stroking ceasefire, and that's just not okay. Fortunately, Dean has a solution.

"There's a six-pack in the minifridge!" he says brightly, and stretches his leg out so they're touching even more.

"Um, I'm gonna get my own room," Sam says, and turns up the stereo in a gesture of finality. It's like he thinks Dean's going to argue or something, which, no.

Back at the motel, Sam actually does get his own room, after depositing them somewhere in the vicinity of Dean's bed and grabbing his overnight bag.

"Bye Sammy," Dean says warmly, walking him to the door, and Sam smiles and says, "Hey, you deserve this, okay? Have fun."

"Thanks Mom," Dean says, but he lets Sam hug him anyway, and somehow avoids the accompanying halfhearted punch in the direction of his gut.

After Sam's gone, things have the potential to get awkward, except Castiel is all stretched out on Dean's bed, looking drunk and happy and, as usual, curious. He's not wearing his trench coat, and he's holding out an open beer in Dean's direction. In that moment, Dean just decides not to think about awkwardness, because let's face it, Castiel is the most awkward person on the planet, or angel, whatever, and there's no way he'll ever call Dean on his social graces. So, Dean strides across the room, takes the beer, and sprawls out beside Cas on the bed.

"You do things for me," Cas says, waving his own beer around as if to illustrate his point. He makes a little surprised noise when his shaken up beer overflows with foam, and Dean just grabs it and sucks the foam off the top, half giddy with the feeling that it's okay to do this, with a man, with Castiel. It's all for himself, he's doing it just because he wants to, not because the world depends upon it or whatever, and the realization makes Dean feel all free and unfettered, like he can do absolutely anything.

"Yeah," he says, once he has passed the beer back. "Sometimes I like to do things for you."

"The angels aren't like you," Castiel says, and in that instant he's on his side, staring over at Dean. "Nobody's like you. I want to touch your face," he adds, and Dean chokes for a second, but then says okay, reaching back to put his beer on the bedside table.

Castiel's fingers trace over his brow in a slow, gentle path, and Dean rolls over onto his side to better accommodate him. "How'm I different?" he asks. It comes out soft, but Castiel is close enough to hear him.

"You're nice," he says. "You laugh at me, but I like it because it makes you look less sad. You don't care about my obligations." His look goes considering, and his hand stills, draped over Dean's jaw, big and solid. "You are for me," he says. "I'm sad when you're sad. I want you to be happy. No one's ever let me be that way before."

His eyes are bright, luminous in the motel lamplight. He looks remarkably open, drunk but not so drunk that he doesn't know what he's saying. Dean looks back at him, just long enough for Castiel to see how big this all feels, how vast and new and wonderful. Then he closes his eyes, shudders into the sensation of Castiel's touch, and murmurs, "So beer is pretty awesome, but making out is awesome too, and you've never done that before, either."

"Dean," Castiel says seriously. "It would be an honor to make out with you."

Really, Dean thinks, as he leans over and kisses Castiel, he's the one who's honored. Cas knows everything about him; the hunting, the betrayals, the secrets. He knows the history of the ways in which Dean's been broken, and yet he's here making reverent noises and parting his lips into Dean' deepening kiss. The thought sends shivers coursing through him, and with it, the knowledge that Cas will never judge him, never hate him or leave him, or have to stay behind as Dean drives off to the next hunt. Best of all, Cas is strong, and there's no way Dean can lead him into more danger than he's already in, so there's the usual guilt gone before it can even start.

It's almost frightening that Dean can actually have this, something that makes him so happy, but he can, so he shifts closer, slipping into the bracket of Castiel's arms and pressing up against his chest. Cas obviously loves him, and maybe that should be a scary thought but it isn't at all. It's just nice, just makes him feel warm and full and happy.

"Hey," he says, murmuring against Castiel's lips. "There's lots of other stuff for us to try, but maybe we could wait? This is what I want right now."

It feels really lame, but Cas doesn't look anything short of adoring. "Yes Dean," he says solemnly. "Tonight we will cuddle."

"Oh my god," Dean says. "You can never say that word again. Especially not to Sam." He's sort of belying his point by the way he's shifting closer, but whatever, he has at least some pride.

Cas looks confused. "But that is what we're doing, Dean." He looks adorable, head cocked and expression inquisitive, and jesus, Dean really can't say no to this guy.

"Okay Cas," he says, "But only because I'm awesome."

"Awesome," Castiel echoes happily, tangling his legs up with Dean's and wrapping close around him, and it really, really is.


End file.
